


Ally McBeal

by Kirsten



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M, Pre-Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-23
Updated: 2004-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lana liked to think about Lex. His hands, his lips, his voice, his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ally McBeal

Lana liked to think about Lex. His hands, his lips, his voice, his head. Lex was very suggestive; he made her think about sex whenever he walked into the Talon, though he said nothing overt, nothing crass. He was sensual as well as sexual, and ten times more engaging than the average high school boy.

He had this way of drinking his cappuccino. He licked the foam from the edge of the cup, just a little, and Lana imagined that little tongue touch flicking over her nipples, firm and soft. Then he always, always huffed a little breath over the coffee, trying to cool it. She thought maybe he'd blow on her wet skin and try to make her shiver.

One time, Lana licked her fingers and ran them over her breasts, and then pushed her nipples up towards her mouth and blew on them, and pretended it was Lex. It made her tingle all over, and she did it again a couple of days later while she was in the bath, safe behind a locked door. The water rippled whenever she moved, waves of warmth over her stomach and thighs.

Lex wouldn't be sweet, but he wouldn't be bitter, either. That was why he drank cappuccino. Sometimes he scooped up foam with his tongue, and that was just the way he'd lick at her clit. Maybe he'd put a finger inside her, and wiggle it a little, and hit that spot and make her moan. Then he'd slide another finger in, and his thumb would push at her ass, and all the time he'd be licking her clit, sucking at her, breathing and blowing on her. She'd be all wet by the time she came, and then he'd slide inside her and fuck her in long slow strokes and she'd gasp and whimper and plead with him, whisper to him, until he touched her clit again and she shook apart with a cry.

He always put his empty cup very decisively on the counter, and his smile was always satisfied. That was probably how he'd look right after sex.

It was a good look. It made her smile.


End file.
